


Burn Fever

by MadameFluffnStuff



Series: The Cuddling Hour Is Upon Us--ficlets from tumblr [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Burn fever, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e18-21 Sozin's Comet, Sickfic, Stubborn!Katara, aka Katara!Katara lmao, protective!Aang, sweeties will sweet, will add more tags tonight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameFluffnStuff/pseuds/MadameFluffnStuff
Summary: Katara was many things, but a good liar was not one of them.
Relationships: Aang & Katara (Avatar), Aang/Katara (Avatar)
Series: The Cuddling Hour Is Upon Us--ficlets from tumblr [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981606
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Burn Fever

**Author's Note:**

> (from Tumblr) @l1febn0t's ask for the hurt/comfort dialogue challenge:
> 
> Kataang + "You're burning up."

To Aang, Katara was many things.

She was the kindest soul to have ever been plucked from the weave of the universe.

She was the gentle nudge that tugged him out of bed and stood always at his side when he had to face every evil and horror imaginable.

She was his entire world.

She was also a terrible liar.

“Aang, sit still.”

Aang shifted his weight and tried not to tense when Katara _still_ didn’t meet his eyes. She was a terrible liar. She knew it, too. She sat before him on her knees on two stacked cushions like she believed _that_ would keep him from reading her like Toph.

As if he would need anything more than her voice to know her every pain.

She should know him better than that.

“Zuko told me what happened.”

Katara hesitated before dabbing the skid of red flesh on his arm. Ozai had held no punches. “Oh?” She not-so-discretely tugged her robe, red and thrown over her singed clothes, closer around herself. “What did he say?”

Her voice reached his ears like air leaking from a broken pipe. His eyes narrowed. Katara still didn’t look at him. The wind curled over his shoulders like agents feeding him information, and Aang clenched and unclenched his fists to resist the urge to hold her. The air from her lungs was warmer than normal. Sweat beaded her brow so hot that it steamed and bled into the air.

“Azula nearly killed you.”

“Hardly.” The air in Katara’s laugh was as forced and stale as her movements. “I took her down just fine. Zuko’s the one who nearly lost his life.”

Katara reached behind her for the gauze. She winced, cradled her side, and leaned into her flinch to pretend she was stretching. Her voice came through clenched teeth and a trembling jaw, and her eyes looked everywhere on him but at his face.

Aang pawed his knees. His winds prowled around the two of them in slow dips like the smooth rolling of a caged tigerdillo’s shoulders.

Katara was distracting him and failing, but she kept talking, anyways.

Aang nodded his head when she paused for breath, and he counted the daggers cutting him open whenever she shivered or winced. His winds growled their currents around her, and they jumped back as though burned. They raced past his ears and face in a sharp, hissing howl.

Aang ground his teeth.

Katara should have known better.

“—but that’s enough about that. What about you? Your shoulder looks pretty— _Hey!_ ”

Katara would have flailed if Aang didn’t scoop her up so fluidly. She tried, anyways, and she blew her cover all on her own when the movement tore out waves of pain from the burn that curled around her side to the small of her back. She made a sound like a wince and a whimper both at once. She pawed his chest on instinct, looking for something to hold, but his robes were ashes somewhere in the Earth Kingdom.

Aang shifted her higher, putting her head nearly to his shoulder, so she could curl an arm around his neck.

“Aang, what…” Katara ground her teeth so hard that Aang heard the gritting _crunch_ in his ear. She refused to cradle her side like she believed she still had the advantage in fooling him. “...what are you doing?”

“You’re going to lie down.”

The universe rippled in the strange way it always did when someone told Katara she had to do something. “I’m _fine_.” Her words were iron and her grip was steel. The air around her was even warmer and carried metal. Aang sped up and tried to ignore the warmth in her dress leaking between his fingers.

“You’re _hurt_ , Aang.”

“You’re _burned_ , Katara.”

“I am not—”

Aang held her closer to relieve the tension stretching her wound. She was talking some more, trying to distract him, but Aang leveled his breath and called his winds to circle around them both. The air current that kept him warm in the Poles and cool in the desert tamed her next words. She relaxed, tranquilized. The sigh that left her carried the comfort of someone getting a drink after weeks of thirst.

She mumbled. Aang ignored her.

He plopped his chin on her head and held her closer like he was locking her in place.

“You’re burning up, Katara. If you won’t let me help you for you, will you let me help you for me?” His voice put a muzzle on her stubborn nature, and his winds wound around her like a dozen cooling hugs. “...I don’t want to see you hurt.”

Katara grumbled and became as soft and malleable as wet riverclay in his arms. Her brow was wet and burning when she brushed her face to his throat.

She held him like he was the only thing keeping her from floating away.

Aang accepted her surrender with a smile and a laugh, and the air that left him carried his relieved joy. It smoothed her over like the first snow of winter blanketing the earth in a fuzzy white hug.


End file.
